


Better Than Words

by Ambereen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Be kind to me please, Deaf Harry, Deaf Harry Styles, I don't know sign language okay, M/M, Niall is literal sunshine, OT5, X-Factor, larry stylinson - Freeform, this was written a long time ago, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambereen/pseuds/Ambereen
Summary: All Harry Styles had ever wanted out of life was to become a recording artist. A musician. A vocalist. A performer. He'd heard it referenced in a number of different ways, from strangers, from members of his family. But the point remained, whatever you wanted to call it, he wanted to be it. He wanted to get up on the stage, stand in the spotlight, and sing his heart out to whoever wanted to listen. He wanted to touch hearts and change lives and make people smile.There was just one small problem standing in the way of all that.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. In the words of the great and wonderful Harry Styles, be kind to me. I wrote this a very long time ago, and just really felt like I needed to make the leap and actually put some of my work out there. It's not the best, but it's something I love and I hope you all will love it too. 
> 
> Inspired by the sign language Louis and Harry always liked to throw about back in the day!

All Harry Styles had ever wanted out of life was to become a recording artist. A musician. A vocalist. A performer. He'd heard it referenced in a number of different ways, from strangers, from members of his family. But the point remained, whatever you wanted to call it, he wanted to be it. He wanted to get up on the stage, stand in the spotlight, and sing his heart out to whoever wanted to listen. He wanted to touch hearts and change lives and make people smile. 

He'd auditioned for the X-Factor knowing there was a good chance he'd get eliminated – he was only sixteen. Not many sixteen year olds were vocally ready for the challenge of the reality show, and the judges were constantly aware and critical of everyone who stepped in front of them. He knew he could be sent home with three simple no's. But he'd put his name down anyway, because what good was wishing? He was finally old enough, he could do it. 

His family was behind him, supporting as always in their matching shirts that made him want to curl up and hide, red faced and all, but they couldn't help him once he stepped out onto the stage. Couldn't help him when he was facing waves of strangers and the three judges. But he'd been taught never to back down, so he answered their questions, refused to crack under the pressure, and sang _Isn't She Lovely_ to the people in the back of the audience. 

He was young, he was inexperienced. His voice shook. He wasn't ready. He wasn't confident enough. He was hyper-aware of everything he did wrong, and every little flaw about himself. All it took was two no's to be sent home, and he was waiting for them with trembling hands while his family waited in the back with baited breath and crossed fingers. He was completely positive he would be meeting them backstage for consoling hugs and whispers of 'next year, sweetheart, you can try again next year.' 

Instead he got two yes's and just like that, Harry Styles was through to the next round of the X-Factor.

It terrified him. 

He was supposed to feel joy, elation, and he did. For the first day. The first twenty four hours after the auditions he was a firework, bouncing and cheerful and telling everyone he knew, and even people he didn't. Anyone who would listen got the good news, and his mood was infectious, turning everyone around him into giggling fools. His mother cried a lot, and kissed him, and told him how proud she was of him. How special he was. 

After that, it got harder. He was constantly terrified, constantly worried. He would panic over unnecessary things like the color of his socks and the way he wore his hair. It was hard to explain to people who didn't know him personally, who couldn't understand why he would suddenly be so scared of something he wanted so badly. And he did. He wanted it so badly it physically hurt to think he might screw things up. It had always been his dream to be an artist, and the X-Factor seemed like the perfect way to achieve that. 

But a lot of things could happen in sixteen years, and Harry had faced down a lot of opposition. A lot of people telling him it couldn't be done. Ever since he'd turned twelve, that dream had been bashed and battered and thrown against the rocks. Getting up on that stage was a way of proving everyone wrong, but he hadn't really thought about what it would mean to pass. To get to the next stage. To have to do it again, and again, until he was either eliminated or... well. 

He couldn't think about winning, even if he wanted to. Even if he'd spent three hours after the audition doing just that. It wasn't really an attainable end, though he so desperately wished it could be. Sooner or later someone would figure him out. Sooner or later he would be exposed and then they'd have no choice but to eliminate him, even if the votes didn't exactly match up to the end result. Harry was sixteen, but he wasn't stupid. 

The X-Factor wouldn't let a deaf singer get very far in their competition. 

*

He wasn't _completely_ at a loss; he could read lips amazingly well, and his singing voice literally gave nothing away, but he was completely deaf. Had been since he was twelve and a brutal car accident nearly killed him. He'd survived, thanks to some quick thinking doctors, but they couldn't save his hearing, a decision that (depending on the day and his mood) Harry sometimes loathed. 

But even with his talent at reading lips, being on the X-Factor was _hard._ He had made the decision himself not to tell the producers about his disability – a decision his parents rather grudgingly supported. They understood why he was doing it, but they were worried for him. And although he had brushed their concern aside at the time, he was rapidly losing his grip. 

People would jostle him and make him jump, or call to get his attention and then get pissed when he didn't answer. He was quick to apologize, and even quicker to try and set things right, but people were making assumptions and spreading rumors, and none of them were true. How could he explain that all his 'quirks' were because he was deaf? He seemed so edgy because he didn't know there was someone behind him. He couldn't hear so obviously he couldn't follow shouted directions or turn when his name was called. He wasn't aloof or withdrawn or too good for everyone there. He was just... different. 

And if he wasn't so damn afraid of telling someone... maybe things might have been better. 

*

It wasn't that Harry was actively trying to keep to himself, quite the opposite in fact, he was trying to make friends, but circumstances being what they were... it just didn't seem to want to happen. People had heard about him, or had things they needed to do, or were just plain uninterested in the young boy from Holmes Chapel. 

He tried not to let it bother him, but of course it did, and after a while he just kept his head down and did what he was supposed to before retreating out of everyone's way. They never seemed to notice, didn't even seem to care. It was all too easy for Harry to virtually disappear. He tried not to get too excited about the idea. His dream was slowly turning into a nightmare. 

He was spending so much time in the silence of his own head that he was losing track of the world around him. Without his family there to carry on conversations with him, he was left to himself, and that was never more apparent than when he found himself jumping a foot in the air in the toilets when someone bumped into his back and he slid sideways into the person next to him. 

He was completely and utterly mortified. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, or even see straight with his pulse pounding in his ears. But when he jerked his gaze up, expecting to see a pissed off contestant, or even just a fist, he was shockingly met with an amused grin and a pair of beautiful ocean blue eyes that, for one glorious, heartbreaking second, reminded him of what waves crashing against the beach sounded like. 

Harry had no idea if they were the only two in the bathroom, or if they had an audience, and he wasn't entirely sure if it would have made a difference either way. He was firmly rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. If he moved, it would make all of this so very, very real, and Harry desperately wanted none of this to be real. 

But then the beautiful boy had to grin even more, flashing his teeth, and Harry's stomach flipped. “Hi.”

It broke the spell. 

Harry spun away, cheeks on fire, and he nearly got his fingers stuck in the zipper as he fixed himself. It would be cowardly to run away without so much as a quick apology (or a very lengthy one, his mother _had_ raised him right) but when he looked back that bright grin hadn't lessened – in fact it might have brightened – and all that came out of him was an “oops” that Harry was positive wasn't pitch perfect. He could feel it in his throat. 

The boy didn't even bat an eyelash, just winked and fixed himself, and Harry's cheeks burned with something other than humiliation, just for a moment. And then the boy was moving to the sink and Harry followed numbly, wondering if he should try to apologize again or to just leave things as they were before he gave himself away. He was usually so much better at controlling his voice, it was all about pitch and tone anyway, but he had never been in this situation before. 

A quick bit of movement in the mirror caught his eye, and when Harry's head snapped up, he was able to catch it just in time to watch pink lips forming words that made him duck his head and hide behind his curls. 

“I'm glad I was stood next to you at the urinals. If I had to get someone's pee splashed on me, I'd much rather have your pee than his pee."

*

His name was Louis. 

Louis Tomlinson. 

He was loud (Harry knew this from watching other people) he was funny (sometimes his humor didn't go over so well with people around them, but Harry always found him funny) and he was sweet (Harry watched him rush off stage during rehearsal to help an older contestant off the stage and he had to bite his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot). 

And, above all else, arguably, he was a good singer. He had to be, to have gotten past the auditions, and Harry was around him enough to see the amount of people that stayed around to hear him sing, but he didn't have the concrete knowledge until he saw Louis' name on the lips of a dumb blonde bitch who didn't deserve to even know his name in Harry's expert opinion and he altered his course so he could lean against the wall and watch her. 

“Louis? Tomlinson? Yeah, he's all right. I mean, if you like high nasally voices that crack in the middle of every single line, he's all right. I wouldn't bother worrying about him making it through the competition, but he's fine. He's nice to look at, at least. If you're into that sort of thing.” 

Harry's instant flash of anger on Louis' behalf was quickly dashed out the moment her words finally sunk in. She wasn't in the habit of lying, he knew that from her frequent rants, so that meant Louis _did_ have a rather high voice that cracked when he sang, and that... that was a piece of information that Harry didn't have, and he was startled by how much it meant to him. 

But still, the next time he saw him, he leaned in a little and quietly murmured “your voice.. it's a bit high, isn't it?” 

Louis laughed, head thrown back, half a biscuit in one hand, and right when Harry was starting to feel like he'd made a horrible, horrible mistake, he looked at him with a grin and quipped “a bit high, Harry? Haven't heard it put that way in a while. Yeah, I'd say so.” 

And for just one night, Harry felt like he was on top of the world. 

*

It didn't last, of course. Every second brought him closer and closer to failure. He missed cues, he missed verbal directions. He could sing perfectly well, but when his music failed he couldn't hear it, and when they put him in the back away from the judges he simply couldn't tell what they were saying to him. He couldn't dance either, couldn't even hope to when their choreographer was never stationary and his instructions were often shouted in different directions. 

Harry was lost, so it wasn't even a surprise when his name wasn't chosen for the boys category. 

In fact, he almost felt... relief. 

Relief that it was over, relief that he could go back home to his family where he could carry on a conversation and not be seen as a freak. Relief that he hadn't given up, that he'd stuck it out to the end, and it just hadn't worked out. 

But there was still that little nagging voice in the back of his head yelling at him, arguing that he hadn't really tried, that he _had_ given up by simply becoming what everyone had always expected. The poor deaf kid with the big dreams that would never go anywhere. 

So when they called his name, when they told him to stay behind with eight other people, he just did as he was told, moving on autopilot, lost in his own emotions. He didn't even look up until he felt a hand at his. It was just a simple brush of fingers, insignificant to most people, but Harry Styles wasn't most people, and that little touch had his head snapping up instantly to meet a pair of tear filled blue ones. 

_Louis._

“Well.” Harry could see the tightness of the word, the way it shook in Louis' pale throat, and when he blinked, unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “If you're going too, it can't be that bad right?” 

Harry bit his lip, fingers twitching and meeting nothing but air. Louis had pulled his hand back, a kind of hesitance in his eyes that made Harry's heart ache. “What do you mean?” 

He barely put any voice behind his words, but Louis heard him anyway because he tried to smile, and it only shook a little. “You're kind of brilliant, you know. I... I can't believe you didn't make it.” 

Warmth blossomed in his cheeks and across his nose and up to his ears, and Harry knew how he looked after he cried – his face was all blotchy and his eyes were red and it wasn't attractive in the least bit – but Louis didn't seem to mind. He just grinned, and _that_ grin looked real, before he solidly took Harry's hand in his and followed after three other boys and four girls as they made their way back out onto the X-Factor stage. 

*

When Simon said they were through, as a group, not as solo artists, everything in Harry, every single molecule of his being, _sang_. He wasn't done, he wasn't finished, and it wasn't until he was given a second chance that he realized how stupid he was being. Of course he was meant for this. Of course he could do it. Just because he was deaf didn't mean he couldn't be a great singer. Just because it was difficult didn't mean it wasn't worth it. 

But accepting the ultimate reality of being one boy in a group of five was hard. If he failed, if his voice wasn't good enough, or if his disability became a problem, he'd take all of them down with him, and that was terrifying. He felt like he was holding all their careers in the palm of his hand and one mistake, one slip up, could send it all crashing down. 

And because it was Louis, because he was one of those four boys he somehow had to sing with, it made it harder. He was so captivating, so motivated, and yes, so beautiful that it physically hurt Harry to think of him failing at anything. Much less something that he wanted so much. To be the cause of it... would destroy something inside of Harry that might never be replaced. 

But he couldn't back out of it now, not when he was given that second chance, and not when Louis looked at him with those crinkled blue eyes and hugged him so hard he could feel his ribs pressing together. There was no getting out of it. There was no way to say no. And when Harry gave into temptation and let his head fall to Louis' shoulder, the vibrations of his laughter made his heart skip a beat, and he knew... he just knew... he'd do anything, anything at all, to make sure Louis Tomlinson made it to the end of the X-Factor. 

*

It was early. Far too early to be awake in Harry's expert opinion. The kitchen was still mostly dark, only a sliver of light making it through the blinds to arch over the island and the boy that was slumped haphazardly into the chair, nursing a cup of tea. 

A shoulder knocking into his made Harry's hands slip on his cup, and in his half awake state, he barely managed to catch it before it hit the tile. Tea splashed over his fingers, making him hiss, and when he looked up he caught sight of Liam, dressed and sheepish, an apology written all over his face. 

“Sorry, mate.” His hair was brushed but un-styled, bits of curls peeking out next to the still mostly straightened strands. It had been a surprise, when Liam had admitted that his hair was actually curly, and it had sparked a bit of a wave amongst the boys. All of them had admitted to something during the past week, even Harry. Though it wasn't what he really needed to tell them, of course. That secret was still his own. “I didn't see you.” 

Harry waved the apology away with a shrug and a small smile, his eyes running over the track suit Liam had brought with him when Louis had packed them all in his car and transported them to Harry's home in Cheshire. It hadn't been his intention of bringing them all home, and it certainly made things more difficult – he hadn't realized just how desperately he wanted to carry on a real conversation until he was home and he was unable to do so – but it was still nice. Even with Liam's early mornings habits.

“Going running then?” He yawned, taking another sip of his tea, a little less mindful of his tone and pitch when it was so early in the morning. He was still passable, his voice did feel a little flatter than normal, but it was easy enough to explain it away. Liam was used to getting up at the crack of dawn for a run, Harry wasn't. 

“Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels and flashed a friendly smile. He was nothing if not friendly, their Liam. “You wanna come?” 

Harry Styles, on an early morning run? He practically snorted into his tea. “No thanks.” 

Liam just grinned at him, and Harry found himself grinning back nearly immediately. It had been a week since they'd been put together in a group, and Harry was hating it less than he thought he would. “I'll get you one day, Styles.” 

“Keep dreaming, Payne.” He rolled his eyes and saw Liam laugh, his chest hitching in a little before he hopped into his trainers and headed for the door. He threw a wave over his shoulder, and Harry watched the door swing closed before he sighed and let his head rest against the counter top.

Honestly, he could do with a run. Some exercise to clear his head and help him think, but he couldn't risk it. Hadn't been able to really risk it for the past four years, unless he had his mother or Gemma with him. They were careful and responsible and made sure he was as safe as could be out there. 

_Liam would be good at that, too_ , his traitorous mind supplied, _he's already made a chart with everyone's likes and dislikes and allergies, he could handle this._

“Shut up.” Harry mumbled against the granite, and as usual, the silence was all that replied. 

*

The second week came with the arrival of his sister, something Harry was both thrilled and horrified over. 

“What are you doing here?” He hissed as soon as her car pulled up and she climbed out, his hands immediately clasping over hers so they couldn't raise in their usual greeting. 

“What?” He could see the confusion in her eyes, and on her lips, and he shook his head once, twice, three times, in quick succession, until he saw realization dawn. And with it, pure disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now, Harry?” 

His fingers tightened on her wrists, his eyes wide and pleading, and she huffed, annoyed, her gaze traveling past him to the door of the house. He'd left it open in his hurry to get to her car, and he didn't need to turn around to know someone was there. “Please, Gemma.” It was whisper soft, and she sighed, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Sure, kid. Whatever you want.” 

*

“So you're staying the night?” Niall was leaning half across the table, roll clasped in one hand, knife in the other as he swept butter up from three seats away. He could have asked to have it moved closer, but he claimed it took too long, and it had gotten so familiar to them that it didn't even make the boys blink. 

Gemma, on the other hand, couldn't stop staring. “Uh... yes. Yes, I think so, if you are all okay with it.”

“Doesn't bother me.” Liam smiled at her, one hand on Niall's back as the Irishman slid back into his seat, roll successfully buttered and stuffed in his mouth. “Zayn?” 

“It's all right.” Zayn was, by far, the most secluded out of them all. Liam had only just started to get to him, and as a result he was on Liam's other side, chair an inch or so closer than was required, his shoulder brushing against Liam's every so often. 

Every time it did, Liam sent him a smile, and sometimes, Zayn even returned it. 

Progress, if there ever was any. 

“I don't mind.” That was Louis, and Harry only caught it because he was angled in a way that made it so he could see Louis' mouth at all times. He was on his right, backlit by one of the lamps, and it made his skin glow. Harry wished he didn't notice that, but he did. “And Niall is clearly enjoying having a lady here to look at. So, Harry?” 

Harry wanted to say no. He needed to say no. 

And then Louis grinned at him, eyes crinkling up, and Harry found himself nodding before he could help it. 

“Brilliant.” 

*

It wasn't brilliant. It was the worst thing Harry had ever agreed to, and it wasn't even his sister's fault. 

Gemma was perfect, actually, and she had the boys eating out of her hands by the end of the night. They all seemed to like her, and even Zayn had participated in the conversation, leaning towards Gemma and out of Liam's shadow for a while. 

She never once signed to him, though he caught her tampering it down a time or two, the instinct so strong that she kept something in her hands through most of the night, though no one would notice or even begin to understand. 

No, it wasn't her. It was him. 

He thought he had a handle on things, that he was getting used to lip reading and constantly moderating his voice, but with Gemma so close, the urge to talk to her – really talk to her – was astronomical and he excused himself from the group early, ignoring all the surprised looks sent his way, and just shut himself up in his room to breathe. 

But it wasn't much better there, either, because when he flopped down on his bed his hand hit something hard bunched up in the sheets, and it was only when he nearly had it out that he remembered Louis cheerfully handing over his iPod earlier, telling Harry that there were some songs on there that he wanted him to listen to. His favorites. He'd had no other choice but to take it, but sitting there with it in his hand, all he wanted to do was pitch it at the wall. 

Instead he turned it on, grabbed the headphones, hit play on one of the songs and tried to pretend he heard anything other than ever pressing silence. 

It was how Gemma found him, five songs later, and the look on her face was indescribable. The wall actually shook when she shut the door, and her hands moved in quick, angry stabs at the air. //“What do you think you're doing? This is insane.”//

Harry obviously didn't need to pull the headphones off, but he did anyway. Just another part of the illusion he'd been trying, and failing to create. “It's not.” 

Her eyes flashed, and she took a few steps away from the door, mouthing her words even as she signed them. Most people did. //“It is. They need to know what's going on, Harry. They're your friends.”// 

Harry's hands shake when he signs. //Band.//

Gemma doesn't even bother signing. “ _Bullshit_.”

It was. It was bullshit. Harry couldn't even deny it, though part of him, some tiny, tiny part of him wanted to. They were his band, and even though he liked them – liked Niall's easy banter and Liam's calming presence and Zayn's quiet intelligence – they'd been put together. He hadn't chosen this. 

//“Louis?”// Gemma signs, alphabetically, each sign a stab in his heart. 

Harry looked away immediately, closing his eyes so he couldn't see her or her words. It was a defense tactic he'd learned when the accident had first happened. If he closed his eyes, there was nothing. Nothing but silence and darkness. No Gemma. No band. No Louis Tomlinson with his ocean eyes and his infectious smile. 

But he couldn't keep it up, and he opened his eyes after a few minutes, blinking in the light. Gemma was still there, arms crossed, glaring at him, and it wasn't like he was expecting her to be gone, but he still sighed, leaning back against the headboard and made peace the only way he knew how. 

//Gemma.// He sighed her name in the family way, the modified sign for sister with a G, and after a heartbeat of hesitation he brought his hands up in the sign for ocean and halfway through flashed an L with his hand. //“Louis.”// 

For a moment he thought she was going to hit him, but she merely fell onto the edge of his bed and sighed, her hands softening out. She was no longer yelling at him. //“You're frustrating, Harry. Why won't you tell them?”// 

This time, he didn't bother trying to lie. //I'm scared.// 

Crawling up next to him, she smacked his legs out of the way and curled up into his side, one arm thrown over his shoulder while she sighed one handed. It was a type of slang, and they were good at it. //“You didn't have many friends after the accident.”// She didn't try to pity him, she just stated it like the fact it was, and moved on. Harry appreciated that immensely. //“They didn't understand. They didn't want to. They were kids. I think Louis and the others will.”// 

It made him smile when she signed Louis' name his way, and once he let the smile out, he couldn't stop it. The worry was still there, the fear was still there, but it seemed a little less with her at his side, their hands moving as they laughed and joked with each other. 

Neither of them noticed when the door shut for the second time. 

*

Harry felt better in the morning, and he returned Louis' iPod with a smile. Gemma had given him the suggestion of looking up the lyrics, something he should have thought of himself, and if she wasn't already gone by the time lunch rolled around, he would have thanked her a million times over for the way Louis' eyes lit up and the way they talked about his favorite songs for a solid two hours. 

It was nice, and the way Niall came rocketing in for his lunch made Harry laugh freely, an action he normally didn't allow. It was almost always impossible to monitor his voice when he was overcome with laughter, and his one saving grace happened to be that he was usually never laughing alone with four other boys around. 

This time it was Louis laughing beside him, and without a second thought Harry leaned back, their chairs pushed close together, his body curving naturally to rest against Louis'. He could feel the vibrations running up his spine, and when Louis stretched his arm out to wrap it around Harry's shoulder, he just let his eyes close for a moment. It was easy to imagine telling them, when he felt like this. Easy to imagine just opening up and spilling all his secrets. 

And then Liam came in, Zayn a literal step behind him, and Harry froze at the twin looks of suspicion sent his way before they took their places at the table. It was there and gone in an instant, and Harry's heart beat wildly, his mind trying in vain to interpret what he'd just seen, trying to understand, though when Liam looked at him next he was smiling, and Harry thought maybe... maybe he'd simply imagined it.

He was too busy twisting his hands in his lap under the table to pay attention to what was being said, and when Louis tapped his shoulder and he looked up, he could feel his cheeks burning. Everyone was looking at him curiously, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat and force his voice to sound extra normal when he bit out a quiet “I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention. What did you say?” 

“He said that we have to start practicing.” Zayn spoke the way Harry imagined him sounding, slow and purposeful, his accent clinging to every syllable. The 'he' was Liam, no doubt. “And I agree. We're not ready at all for Judge's House. We don't even have a song.” 

“Or a name.” Niall put in, looking amused. 

A song. A name. Judge's House. The competition. “Right.” 

His voice was shaking, but so were his hands, and he squeezed his legs hard enough to keep them still. The pain helped him focus. “What are we waiting for?” 

*

It was a little better than a disaster. 

They were singing Torn by Natalie Imbruglia and after hammering out who had a solo and what part they'd sing – Harry was one hundred percent behind Liam's solo but extremely panicking with his own – they gave it their first try as a band. 

Harry knew it wasn't going well just by the way his own voice shook and by the looks passed around between the boys. They ran it through two times before Liam shook his head to end it, and Harry's panic skyrocketed, his heart pounding and his palms sweating. He was fighting it back, trying hard not to lose it, but when Louis turned to look at him and opened his mouth he was up on his feet and rushing from the room before he could even think about moving.

He hit the bathroom at a run, slamming the door behind him as he hit his knees and lost his entire lunch, and then some, into the toilet. He wasn't sure how long he was there, dry heaving and sobbing, but when a hand touched his back he screamed. It wasn't a startled scream, he knew someone would follow him, it was a scream born of anger and desperation and hopelessness. It was a scream that had been building up in him since he'd auditioned for the X-Factor. 

But for all he knew, it could have been nothing louder than a whimper. 

Arms wrapped around him from behind, not pulling, but encasing, and he broke into pieces, sobbing as he collapsed, curls hanging in his eyes. There were vibrations against his back, but he didn't think it was talking. It was too long, too solid. Humming, maybe. And the thought of it made him cry harder, because he knew who it was behind him without ever having to turn around. 

But then the humming stopped abruptly and Harry startled, head coming up to catch sight of Liam in the doorway, Zayn and Niall behind him. Liam's lips were moving, and Harry's heart constricted painfully as he tried in vain to make sense of it all with his vision blurred by tears. 

When Liam's face twisted into something vaguely resembling pity, everything in Harry balked and he tore himself away, staggering to his feet and slapping away the hands that reached for him. He caught sight of Louis out of the corner of his eye, drawing back in hurt, on his knees on the floor, but he forced himself to ignore it. Because if he didn't the anger would leave, and he needed that anger. 

“Don't pity me!” He bit out the words, for once not caring what he sounded like, for once not moderating his voice or his tone or his pitch. His throat was scratchy from the crying, and he might have been screaming, but he didn't know. Didn't know, that is, until he saw Niall flinch, drawing back to hide behind the door frame. 

For some reason, that made him scream louder. “Don't pity me! Don't look at me that way! _Don't_!” 

The bathroom was too small, too constricting. The walls were closing in on him and he barreled past Liam with a hip check that sent the older boy into the door. He didn't think he had it in him, and neither did Liam, judging from the surprise on his face seconds before Harry had an empty hallway in front of him and he just ran. 

He ran until his legs ached, until he was out of the house and down the stairs and past the pool. He ran until he couldn't see the house, until the tears had dried on his skin and he was having trouble breathing. He ran until he came to the park and he collapsed at a picnic table, nails digging into the old, soft wood as he fought to catch his breath. 

And as soon as he had, he knew he'd made a mistake. He knew he'd ruined everything for all of them, and the guilt that crashed down on him felt like a hundred knives piercing his skin all over. He'd lost his temper, arguably lost his mind, and most likely his secret as well. 

The peace and serenity of the morning was gone. The certainty that he could pull this off was shattered. What was he thinking. He should never have auditioned. He should never have accepted a place in the band. He should never have let himself think he could do this. 

In the end, he was just a deaf kid desperately trying to appear 'normal'. A deaf kid who didn't realize that his 'normal' now rested in every look of pity he'd ever receive. 

*

When it started to rain, Harry just laughed, the vibrations so strong they shook him to the core as he curled himself into the picnic table and watched the wood rapidly turn dark with every raindrop that hit it's surface. 

The rain was cold, but it was welcomed, and Harry turned his face to the sky, closing his eyes and letting everything go. He'd already decided what he would do. He'd go home, apologize, and withdraw from the competition. It would leave the band short a member, but they were determined, they'd be fine. 

His only regret was Louis. He'd made a promise to himself, and now he was going to be break it. He had wanted to help take Louis all the way to the end of the X-Factor, and now all he could do was be there for him behind the scenes. He'd vote for him. For all of them. That was all he could do anymore. 

He expected them to hate him. He'd probably hate himself too, if the situations were reversed. He expected them to be angry at what he did, at what he kept from them. He never expected them to come looking for him in the rain, or to sit down around the picnic table with him, but when the table shifted just a little and he opened his eyes, they were all there, just as wet as he was, and just as silent. 

They sat in the rain for five minutes, none of them speaking or moving except to brush water from their eyes. Harry was the only one on his bench, the rest of them had crammed themselves opposite him, but it didn't feel like they didn't want to be near him, all of their hands rested near his on the table. If he uncurled his fists, his fingers would brush theirs. 

They were waiting for _him_. 

“I'm sorry.” were the first words out of his mouth, and they tasted like salt water. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have.” 

Niall was the first one to reach out, his hand solidly wrapping around Harry's and squeezing. It made him relax. Seeing him shrink back from him, afraid, had hurt him more than he could ever have imagined. “Tell us now, mate.” 

He spoke a little slow, betraying the fact they already knew, or at least guessed, but that only made it easier, right? 

“I'm deaf.” Just saying the word made Harry shudder, but Niall held tight to him, and the boys never wavered. They were focused on him, and nothing else, and he breathed out before continuing. “Have been since I was twelve. There was a car accident. My hearing has been gone since then.” 

It didn't really surprise Harry that Liam was the one to speak up then, his fingers twitching on the wood a spare inch or so from his skin. He didn't slow his words down, and the surprise of it made him squeeze Niall's hand a little too hard. “There's no chance of you getting it back, then?” 

He'd accepted the reality of his disability had been long ago, but it still stung a little to shake his head and watch the hope leave their eyes. “Afraid not.” 

“But you sing.” That was Zayn, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips turned down in a frown. His hand was closer to Liam's than Harry's, but Harry didn't think he was doing it on purpose, and really the two of them were adorable. He'd have to tell them sometime. 

“Bloody well, too.” Niall again, and Harry ducked his head on instinct, fighting the blush before he shrugged a shoulder in what he hoped came across more nonchalant than shy. 

“I can remember singing.” He was practically whispering, barely any force behind his voice, but they boys only leaned a little closer to hear him. “It's all I've ever really wanted to do. When I had my accident everyone told me it couldn't be done, that there was no point or a future for a deaf singer, but I'm pretty good at controlling my voice and when the auditions came up I figured... why not.” 

“Why not.” Louis repeated, the words solid and slow and angry. Harry could see it in his eyes, and panic gripped him again, threatened to take him under. “Why not. I have a why not for you, Harry. Why not tell your friends that you can't hear them? Why not tell them before you make them look like idiots and fools?” 

Liam placed a hand on Louis' back, lips moving too fast for Harry to catch, but he shrugged him off and leaned forward, his fingers digging into the table. They looked like claws. “Why Harry? Why didn't you tell me?” 

And even though Harry couldn't hear him, and could only sometimes see inflictions in the way people spoke, he knew it wasn't me. It was _me_. Louis was asking why he hadn't told _him_. He wasn't angry, he was hurt. And that made it worse. 

“Knock it off, Tomlinson.” Zayn, coming to his defense, and wasn't that a surprise. Harry didn't think he was worth it, but he could hardly tell him that when it felt like his tongue was glued to the top of his mouth. “He doesn't need you yellin' at him.” 

“Butt out of it, Malik.” Louis snapped back, and Liam's lips drew together in a thin line as he puffed himself up between them. A thin, awkward teenage wall preemptively put between the two of them. 

But Zayn stood up, and although Niall tried to yank him back down, Harry was gripping his one of his hands so tightly he was leaving nail marks in his skin, and he couldn't do it one handed. When Louis stood up too, Harry's panic skyrocketed. 

Before he could think about it, he yanked his hand away from Niall's, half pulling the boy across the table, frantically throwing his hands up in a sign even as sound burst from his mouth in a half shout. //“Louis!”//

It worked. It stopped everyone, and Louis turned his attention back to Harry, Zayn forgotten as he stared at his hands, now still and resting on the table. The first time he spoke, it was too fast for Harry to catch and he bit his lip, shaking his head. 

“I... sorry. I didn't... quite get that.” 

Louis slumped back down on the bench, fingers running through his hair, tousling it over his eyes. When he repeated himself he spoke directly to Harry, purposefully, though not as forcefully as before. Harry saw Zayn relax out of the corner of his eye. “What did you say?” 

That... wasn't what he'd been expecting, but Harry slowly repeated the sign, a little bit slower, until Louis nodded. It made Harry hesitate before he dropped his eyes to the table and quietly murmured “your name. It's your name.” 

When Louis' noise scrunched up, Harry thought he was going to complain or something, and he was already squaring his shoulder for it. He'd heard everything over the past few years, nothing Louis said would be new to him, but then his hands lifted and Harry watched in awe as the eighteen year old tried, and failed, to replicate the motions. 

He was trying to sign. He was trying to sign his own _name_ , and before Harry could even fully register it, he was laughing, his curls matted down with the rain that was still falling on their heads, and one by one he saw them all join in, until even Louis was giggling helplessly. 

“Yeah.” He grinned, and Harry melted at the sight of it, “yeah, that was shit, wasn't it?” 

“Just a little.” It was easier to smile than he thought it would be, and when he reached out to curl his fingers around Louis' own, he let him, and together they moved through an all right representation of Louis' name. But this time, they were being scrutinized, and when Harry sat back, Liam was frowning. 

“How could that be his name? I saw the L but...” 

Harry flushed immediately, clearing his throat in what he hoped was subtle and probably wasn't, judging by the amused grin on Niall's face. “It's a modified sign. It would take forever to sign out people's names alphabetically, so usually, if uh... if they're close enough, we just modify an existing sign for them. Something we think suits them. It's habit to add in the first letter of their name, too... at least it is for me.” 

Liam nodded, and Louis lit up like it was Christmas come early. “So you picked something that you thought suited me? What is it?” 

His face was burning. It was on fire. But Louis looked so eager to know, and Harry couldn't say no to him, that he just cleared his throat before he did the sign again, omitting the L. //“Ocean.”//

“Ocean.” For a moment Louis looked confused, and then his eyes lit up again and his smile widened. He repeated him, body shaking with restricted laughter before he nodded and went, “okay. Ocean. Got it, curly.” 

He didn't, not really, but that was enough. Harry darted his eyes back and forth, trying to find something else to focus on, and Liam took pity on him, his smile soft and sweet. “Did you make us signs too?” 

Harry had, actually, though he'd never used them. He never thought he'd get the chance. So he nodded, with a shy smile, and placed both hands over his chest. The sign was quick and easy, and he finished it with another L, and before he even lowered his hands Louis was laughing, bent over the table and practically howling. 

“Wait, wait!” He waved his hands in the air and pointed at Liam before he mirrored Harry's signing, a little off but close enough, and then burst into laughter again. “Did you use bat? Harry, please tell me that's not the signal for bat.” 

Harry looked far too sheepish for it to be anything else, and Louis was lost to his laughter again while the rest of them caught up. Liam's realization was priceless, and he flushed before hiding his face in his hands, Zayn clapping him on the back and beaming. 

Niall was just giggling himself away at the end of the bench, one hand pressed to his stomach. “Bat Liam!” He was almost as bad as Louis, tears streaming down his face. Or maybe it was rain, Harry couldn't tell. “It's the _bat signal_. That's brilliant!” 

Liam, when he raised his head again, still had an obvious pink hue to his cheeks, but his lips were twitching. “Hazza.” Harry's head tilted to the side at the unfamiliar word, so Liam repeated it, twice, until he was able to read it on his lips, and when he got it (touched and confused, all at the same time) Liam pointed to the rain and, completely straight face, asked “how do you sign ' _let's get out of the rain, you idiots_?'” 

Harry, without missing a beat, signed //you are all ridiculous.//

Even though they had no idea what he said, he could have been insulting them for all they knew, they all laughed and climbed up from the picnic table, soaked through to their bones. And when they all held their hands out for Harry, he smiled and took the first one he saw. 

Louis squeezed it, tucked him in against his side, and hummed all the way home. 

*

It took them a while, to get everyone in and out of showers and warm. Liam made hot chocolate and tea, and when they settled down in the living room it was on the floor instead of the couches, nestled in a pile of blankets and pillows, together. 

Liam's head in Zayn's lap, Louis' legs over Niall, Harry's body curved under Zayn and against Louis, Niall tugging on Liam's batman blanket and snickering. They were a mess of each other, turned just enough that Harry could see each and every one of them when they spoke. 

He taught them Zayn's sign, a Z with the sign for art, and dutifully looked away when Zayn's eyes glistened and he buried his face in Liam's fluffy, untamed hair, and the one he'd just worked out for Niall; the sign for sunshine with an N. He'd gone back and forth on his, changing it up in his head at least five times, but knew he'd finally gotten it right when he smiled at him and it lit up the entire room.

And he taught them his, the sign his family uses for him, with only a tiny bit of hesitation. But it was worth it all when he saw Louis repeating it back to him, a proud smile on his face. “Strong with an H. It suits you, Harry.” 

When Harry just shrugged, Niall just reached out and shoved him lightly in the side. “He's right. Look at you, you're on the X-Factor. You've proved everyone wrong.” 

A metaphorical bucket of ice slid down Harry's spine and he shuddered, ducking himself back into Louis on instinct, the older boy's arm tightening immediately. He didn't look up when he felt the vibrations of Louis speaking to him. He didn't have to. He knew what he was saying. It was in the way he held him, and the way everyone was looking at him. Confused. Concerned. 

“What is it?” Zayn asked it again for them all, his fingers tangled in Liam's hair. 

It took Harry three times to speak, and when he did, it was to the pile of blankets. “I can't stay in the competition.” 

Instead of the blow up he'd imagined, no one moved, and no one said anything for at least a full minute before Liam cleared his throat and calmly said “why not?” 

Confused by their reaction, but desperate to get it all out, Harry just shook his head and twisted his fingers in his blanket. “I did okay on my own but I can't hear you. I can't tell when it's my turn for a solo, I can't harmonize. I can't do anything that you guys can, and I don't want to bring you down. You want this so badly.” 

“So do you, mate.” 

He didn't even bother trying to pretend that was a lie. “Of course I do, Niall. But it's impossible.” 

Zayn's smile took him by surprise. It was soft and sweet and like nothing he'd seen on his face before. “Nothing's impossible. We can figure it out. I don't think any of us want to lose you.” 

There were nods of agreement, and a vibration against his back that had him tipping his head up to look at Louis curiously. “I want to see this through _with_ you, Harry.” 

And that was it. After all Harry did seem to have a problem with saying no to him. 

*

But it wasn't easy. 

The boys had to remind themselves to get Harry's attention before speaking, and to speak clear enough that he could read their lips. He used their signs to get their attention most of the time, since they seemed to like it and he appreciated the freedom it gave him. 

But sometimes they forgot, or they made a joke that only sounded insensitive once it was already out of their mouths, and it wasn't anything Harry wasn't used to, but he was using so much of his energy in trying to maintain what used to be normal for them that it was hard not to get a little angry. He was just so burnt out and tired and their private time together was rapidly coming to an end. They had to figure out how they could sing as a band, or they would never make it past Judge's House. 

They brainstormed in a group, consulting books and the internet and exhausting both over time. They had ideas, but they were all too far fetched to work properly and none of them would work if someone else messed up their timing. Harry couldn't adjust quick enough on his own to save it. And putting him as a background voice wasn't possible. Not only did they personally love his voice and feel it should be highlighted, but Simon requested him as a solo artist. Without spilling his secret, they couldn't say no. 

It was on the last night they had, with everyone stressed to the max, when Zayn perked his head up and, frowning, moved to where Harry was settled on the couch, legs thrown over the arm with a blanket tossed across his middle. 

“I'm going to sing.” He spoke calmly, but quietly, trying not to disturb the others who were still hard at work. He didn't want to distract them. “Liam's solo.” He settled near his knee, fingers smoothing across it absently. “Count it.” 

Harry frowned, opening his mouth to ask why, but then Zayn was singing, and tapping out a slow beat on his knee, and Harry counted each hit on autopilot, losing himself in the taps and the way Zayn quietly sang each note. 

When the tapping stopped, Harry's eyes flicked up immediately and Zayn nodded, nudging him a little with his own knee. And even though he wasn't feeling all that confident in himself, he opened up his lips and sang, fumbling the first lines as he felt Zayn tapping again, calm and solid. A grounding. When he stopped, so did Harry. 

It seemed so simple. So unbearably simple, and Harry felt the smile growing over his face, saw Zayn laugh, and then they were surrounded by the rest of the boys, all talking over one another and leaving Harry completely unable to follow the conversation. But it didn't matter. He'd picked up the song, he'd sung his solo. They had a lot of work ahead of them with pitch and tone and harmony, but he could keep track of their songs with practice, and that meant more to him than any one of those boys could know. 

When they sang it together for the second time, Harry kept track of the timing himself, only reading lips when he absolutely had to. And when it came time for his solos, he was only a heartbeat or two off, though he could tell by the simple little shake Zayn gave him, his voice still wasn't there yet. Still, it was a start, and he was practically bouncing in his seat when they finished. 

“I can do this.” 

The words burst out of him, he could feel each syllable in his throat, and within seconds he was enveloped in boys, arms flailing, bodies thrown sideways on his couch and sliding off and he couldn't stop laughing. He couldn't make heads or tails of anyone, couldn't figure out who was who, couldn't even see with hair in his eyes, or breathe with hair in his mouth but he couldn't stop and after a few seconds he was rocking in the vibrations of everyone joining in and it was perfect. 

They'd given him back his voice. The rest would follow, he was sure of it. 

*

It was Liam's idea to go to the beach. He figured it would be a good way to calm their nerves. They were as ready as they could be for their performance for Simon, Harry had the timing down so much that he didn't even need to actively count – a bit of swaying was all he needed to keep himself on track. And thanks to a bit of literal hands on coaching, and a lot of trial and error, Harry knew exactly what notes he was aiming for and how they felt in his mouth when he had it right. 

They'd even named the band. Harry hadn't wanted to rush it, but they couldn't be introduced without a name, and time was rapidly running out, so they thought while they packed, and thought while they had breakfast, and thought in the car. And while three of them were crushed in the backseat, knees and thighs touching while Louis drove them all to where they needed to go, Harry jerked up in the middle and let out a happy little trill that had Louis nearly driving them off the road. 

“What?” He spun in his seat as soon as he'd screeched to a stop, eyes wide, hand over his heart while Niall pulled himself off the dashboard and blinked, half of his soda soaking the front of his jeans. “What is it? What's wrong?” 

“Haz?” Liam was to his left, Zayn to his right, and both of them were as confused as Louis was. Liam's nickname for him looked sharp and high pitched, and Harry immediately laid a hand over his to reassure him that all was fine before he beamed across the car at Louis. 

“One Direction.” 

He didn't exactly get the reaction he was hoping for. In fact he didn't get any reaction other than an even more confused, “come again?” 

“Our name. Our band name. It should be One Direction.” 

Louis arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth, and Harry dove forward to press a hand over it. To his credit, Louis only hit the steering wheel mildly hard when he jerked back in alarm. “Christ, Harry, what-” 

“Just think about it.” Harry shook his head, curls flying all over the place. He looked mad. “One Direction.” 

For almost five minutes they sat on the side of the road, all of them looking perplexed while Harry beamed, until Zayn tested it out with his tongue and cast a hopeless look in Liam's direction. “It's not half bad.” He admitted, and when Liam nodded slowly, Harry let out another happy yell that had Louis covering his ears. 

“You're loud curly.” But he was grinning, his eyes bright blue, and Harry knew he had him. 

“One Direction.” Niall shrugged, his lap currently covered in wet napkins with more clutched in his hands. “Sounds good to me.” 

So One Direction was born, and by Liam's decree the first fun thing they did as a newly named band was go to the beach. 

An hour later the first dramatic thing One Direction did was call an ambulance. 

Which was why Liam was currently curled up on a couch in Simon's house, head down, refusing to speak to anyone while Zayn sat next to him, quietly rubbing his back in circles. 

“It's not your fault mate.” Niall had been banished to the other couch for trying to talk to him, but he was still there, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. “You just wanted us to have some fun.” 

But Liam ducked his head down even more and Zayn frowned even more, and Harry was in his own chair, legs drawn to his chest as he flicked through his phone and sent a million texts to Louis' phone even though he knew very well it was in a bag ten feet from him. 

He just wanted him back. That was all he wanted. 

It seemed funny now that he'd seriously considered leaving them. He couldn't even imagine a day without the boys at his side, and they'd only known each other for a short time. But there was just something about having them there, the way they all fit (or didn't) into each other's spaces. It made sense in a chaotic sort of way, and Harry wanted it back. Everything felt so dull and colorless without Louis. 

“Fun.” Liam parroted, and Harry looked up when Zayn shifted uncomfortably. Liam hardly looked like himself. It was like the entire world had collapsed on his shoulders. “It's a lot of fun until we get kicked out of the competition. We can't do it without him.” 

Harry couldn't even disagree, and he sighed, blocking out the others as he sent off another text and watched the gym bag vibrate on the floor. They needed him. They weren't One Direction without Louis, and when Simon came in an hour later to tell them they were next, with or without him, they were all fearing the worst. 

*

When the car pulled up, a spare ten minutes before they were to perform, all of them reclining on the stairs in various states of panic, Harry felt his throat catch and his heart stop, and when Louis limped out he was already up and moving before he could think about it. 

He caught him around the waist, immediately, taking all of his weight and burying his face in his neck. He felt similar impacts all around him, and knew the rest of the boys had raced over with him, but he was too busy breathing in the scent of saltwater and antiseptic on Louis' skin to bother caring about them. 

He was warm and solid and _there_ , and Harry only pulled back when Louis tapped him twice on the back of his head, fingers sliding amongst his curls. “Hey.” He murmured, eyes warm and only a little pain filled as Harry supported him on one side and Liam steadfastly got the other, still looking a bit like he was responsible for the world ending. “Miss me?” 

“Not even a bit.” Niall was quick. Quicker than Harry, whose brain had come to a screeching halt all of a sudden. “There was talk of replacing you.” 

“So soon!” Louis laughed, not even resisting as he was picked up and carried towards the doors. In fact he leaned back into their hold, trusting them completely. “Don't I get three strikes?” 

“If you'd like.” Zayn grinned, tagging alongside Liam as always, a hand pressed to his back. “Who counts nearly arriving late for our first performance ever as Lou's third strike?” 

“Aye.” Niall agreed nearly instantly, and Louis' yell was loud enough to make random camera crew poke their heads out of the other rooms in alarm. Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from snickering. 

“Harry, Harry, come on.” He squirmed in their group to look back at him, eyes pleading. “Defend me.” 

But when Harry opened his mouth, one of the producers for the X-Factor waved them down and pointed towards the pool. “You're on, One Direction.” 

“Now or never, then.” Liam sighed, setting Louis back down on his feet before giving him a quick one armed hug. Louis returned it, but he looked a little confused. They'd have to fill him in later. 

“You really would have defended me right?” Louis hissed when Harry set him down, and Harry rolled his eyes before he started off behind Zayn, towards what would either be the beginning or the end of their time on the X-Factor. 

He only stopped when he was tugged backwards, Louis' hand in his, and their eyes locked. They were so close Harry could see individual flecks of color in his eyes. “Hey.” It was whisper soft, barely a breath stirring his curls. “We've got this, yeah?” 

He looked so beautiful, even hurt and worried, Harry wanted to capture this moment and never let it go. “Yeah.” He murmured, pressing closer so their foreheads touched, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “We've got this.”

For a moment, one glorious moment when all Harry could feel was his heart hammering in his chest and breath on his cheek, he thought Louis was going to... but no. He was pulling away, tugging Harry along by his hand, off to where the rest of the band was waiting for them, and Harry did his best to push aside his disappointment and focus on the next few minutes. 

Since they were going to decide everything. 

*

It was a dream. 

Everything Harry had experienced since the moment he'd decided to audition for the X-Factor was a dream. 

He'd decided it himself, the moment they'd been put through in the competition, and every week since then, as it brought them further and further along. His secret was safe, his trick at pacing himself working more or less flawlessly, their confidence improving with each win and cheering fan in the crowd. 

//Thoughts, Curly?// 

Louis was still learning how to sign, but he'd thrown himself into learning it the same way he'd thrown himself into practicing their songs. It was an unspoken agreement between them all, they practiced over and over again until everyone was flawless and knew their timing and their pitch, not just Harry. It was a bit of teamwork that had really brought them all together. 

But he was still far from flawless at it. Though he did try to sign without speaking out loud or mouthing the words, something that had both astonished and touched Harry at first. Everyone else preferred having their words to fall back on. Louis said he didn't want to rely on anything. He wanted to experience it as authentically as possible. The way Harry had to at first. 

Harry, for what it was worth, always spoke when he signed back with all of them. 

When Harry had thanked him, tears in his eyes, he'd only asked for one thing in return. He'd always wanted Harry to be honest with him. 

It had been really hard, lately, with so much bothering him, but he'd been trying. //“My accident.”// 

Louis immediately stopped in the doorway of the den, one hand braced on the door, eyes narrowing as he took in Harry on the floor, head on a pillow, curled up with a bowl of popcorn and a blanket. He'd been watching a movie, and it still played in the background, sound off, subtitles running. 

It took him two seconds past that to turn his head and yell, Harry could see his throat working, and he just sighed, moving the bowl of popcorn to the couch. He didn't bother protesting, he just waited, and within minutes he had every member of One Direction on the floor with him, curled close, Liam's hair in wet curls and Zayn yawning into his hand as he snuggled up into Liam's side and lowered his head to his shoulder, eyes heavy lidded as they focused on Harry, hands moving slowly, a little haltingly. //“All right?”//

He nodded, and moved his legs for Niall, and then Louis was there, easing himself down and practically spooning Harry, arms wrapped around him. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon, and Harry smiled as he looked up at him. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime.” He smiled back, tugging lightly on a stray curl that had arched over Harry's nose when he looked up. “So what do you mean, your accident?” 

There was no pressing urge to reply, no one was forcing him, but Harry was still under four sets of eyes and he squirmed a moment before sighing and tangling his fingers in Niall's hair. The Irishman had plopped down at his legs and had just put his head down in his lap, as content as could be. “I just wish it hadn't happened, you know? I wish I could hear.”

There was a deep sigh against his back, and Harry dropped his eyes immediately. He hated when he made Louis sigh like that. “Sorry.” 

Two taps against his ribs made him look up, and within seconds his guilt was replaced by startled, amused laughter as he watched Liam try to sign... something... at him. It didn't even make sense, and Louis' chuckles against his back only made him giggle harder until Liam shrugged and gave up, dropping his hands with a smile. 

“You did that on purpose.” Harry was quick to accuse him. Liam was nearly as good as Louis. “You were just throwing your hands around.” 

“Maybe.” Liam admitted, smile soft and hands softer, as they fell to Zayn's neck, massaging gently in what could only be an unconscious motion. “But it made you smile.” 

It had, and Harry settled back, his heart swelling with love for his boys as he looked at them all, crowded and crushed and comfortable at his side. They had all been doing their own thing, all of them enjoying the private time they got so rarely often, and yet they'd all come when Louis had called. For no other reason but to lay here with him and make him feel better. They were learning sign language for him. They were working extra hard in this competition because of him, and they never complained. 

He could spend the rest of his life trying, and still never be worth them. 

“Sometimes...” It was a whisper, barely audible, and he cleared his throat before looking up shyly. “Sometimes I just wish I could hear your voices. Just... just once. That's all I want.” 

He knew he had floored them, he could see it in their eyes. In the way Liam turned his face away after a second to compose himself, in the way Niall buried his in Harry's thigh. The way Zayn just sighed, not bothering to hide the emotions or the tears clinging to his long eyelashes. Not anymore. Not for this. 

And Harry knew it wasn't pity they were feeling. He knew it was love. He saw that too, in the way Liam fisted a hand in his shirt, in the way Niall was smiling, and the way Zayn gently knocked his leg against his. 

“If you could hear us, what would you want us to say?” Louis was tracing a hand up and down his chest, lazily, but there was love there too. In the way he spoke each word like a caress, mirroring the way he touched him. 

Harry already knew the answer. He'd known it for a while. 

“My name.” 

*

“Rebecca.” 

One word was all it took for Harry's entire world to come crashing down. 

For seconds he stood there dumbfounded, unable to believe it as the boys reacted around him. Turning away, dropping their heads, looking completely and utterly crushed, and Harry's heart seized. They'd lost. They'd been eliminated. 

They'd made it to third and that was it. 

He felt like a robot, moving to congratulate Rebecca on advancing, too slow, too awkward, and then he let himself be brought back to the boys in the middle of the stage, forced to stand there as their entire journey was played out in front of them, cameras in their faces. 

Harry wanted to break down and cry, but he held it together as best he could. He'd made it so far, putting on brave faces for this show when all he wanted to do was hide, he could last a few more minutes. But it was hard, so very hard. If he'd had to do it alone, he never would have made it. 

He missed Louis' comment, too devastated to pay attention, and he latched onto Zayn when the microphone moved in front of him. And when he realized what the question asked of him was, Harry felt so faint he had to grip onto Liam for balance. What was going to happen to One Direction now? 

“We're definitely going to stay together. This isn't the last of One Direction.” 

When the boys nodded, shooting little glances between themselves, Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. And when Simon said it was just the beginning for them, Harry couldn't help but look over at Louis. He'd promised to get him to the end of the X-Factor. He'd done his best. 

When Louis looked back at him, eyes wet with tears but on fire with determination, Harry knew he'd kept his promise, even if it wasn't quite what he'd expected it to be. 

It definitely wasn't the last of One Direction. And no matter what happened as soon as they left the stage, it _was_ just the beginning. 


	2. Two

**Two years later**

“I don't like this.” Harry protested, hands held out as Louis gently prodded him through their home blindfolded. “I don't know why you'd do this.” 

It was as good as arguing to himself. He was blind and deaf and completely at the other's mercy. For a few moments he was thrilled by the idea, but then again the last time they'd introduced new items into their sex life, Louis had to call Liam at three in the morning because he'd handcuffed Harry to the bed and lost the keys through a crack in the floorboard. 

It was not an experience Harry wanted to repeat, what with Liam thoroughly chastising Louis for thirty minutes, though Liam hadn't escaped being chastised either. Zayn hadn't appreciated waking up to a hastily written note of 'Lou called. Harry handcuffed. Brb luv u.' 

So maybe not handcuffs ever again. But a blindfold could be interesting, though Harry was rather against using it on himself. It was a little too disorienting having his one main sense taken away from him. But maybe on Louis... 

Two taps on his hip made him stop, and he stood obediently by as Louis undid the blindfold and pulled it off, stuffing it into his back pocket. They were in their bedroom, and from what he could see around his boyfriend, it looked entirely the same as it did before. “Was this necessary?” 

Louis just smiled, and stepped out of the way. 

There were four frames on the wall. Four 3-D pictures over their bed, and Harry frowned, moving closer until he could make out the ups and downs of individual sound bytes. He froze. And in his shock, all he could do was sign. //Lou?//

//Go ahead, babe.// He signed back easily, smiling. //It's all right.// 

But it wasn't all right, because the closer Harry got, the more the pictures took shape, and when he climbed onto their bed to reach out for one, he could barely breathe. 

It was a short audio clip in a frame, spiky and sharp against his fingers, and when he ran his hand over it, his eyes caught the small gold plaque under it. It was simple and to the point and as soon as he read it, Harry's breath caught on a sob. 

“Harry” - Niall Horan 

He lunged for the one next to it, and nearly wiped out on the pillows. He caught his balance, and placed his hands on the next one, fingers eagerly running it over. 

“Harry” - Zayn Malik

The next one had two audio files, and Harry ran his fingers over the first one before he dropped his eyes down and nearly bit his own tongue off as he choked on a sobbing laugh. 

“Harry” - Liam Payne

“Hazza” - Liam Payne

He knew it was coming, but his fingers still shook so badly he nearly knocked the next frame off the wall. There were two audio files on this one, as well, but he didn't even look at the second one, he was too busy desperately running his fingers over the lines, committing them to memory like he was blind as well as deaf. 

“Harry” - Louis Tomlinson

He was crying so hard he couldn't see anymore, and he just clung to the wall, the bed, anything he could for balance as he sobbed. “Lou.” 

Arms, solid, warm arms, wrapped immediately around his waist and he spun into him, burying his face in his neck and crying. His fingers digging into his back as he clung to him. It was the best gift anyone had ever given him, and he knew the boys were waiting around for a phone call from Louis to come over so they could pile together and just breathe in each other as they usually did on Wednesday nights. 

But this was different. This was special. He'd thought they'd forgotten that little conversation so long ago in the X-Factor house. It was so insignificant compared to everything else they'd done. It wasn't like they could really make him hear again. But they'd given him the next best thing. Their voices in a way he could see, and touch. He could _see_ Niall's Irish, and it was nothing he could ever have been prepared for. 

A gentle nudge made him lift his head, and Louis wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb before he pressed a kiss to his lips and tilted his head back towards the wall. His eyes said everything that needed to be said, and Harry rubbed at his eyes before he looked back at the second audio file in Louis' frame. 

When he did, his knees buckled, and he slipped to the bed, taking Louis down with him. To his credit, the older boy only laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Harry grabbed his collar and yanked him in, sealing his mouth over his and drinking his laughter down, feeling the vibrations in the pit of his stomach and down through his chest. 

**“I love you” - Louis Tomlinson**


End file.
